


Calligraphy

by ArtanisNaanie



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Ananas on pizza is a crime against humanity, Everyone Is Gay, Ficwip5k, Fluff, Gay Sex, Geralt is a football player, How can someone who loves tags so much be so bad at it, I'm Bad At Tagging, Inspired by Art, Jaskier favourite color is yellow, Jaskier is bold, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:33:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25365418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtanisNaanie/pseuds/ArtanisNaanie
Summary: Jaskier needs to find a way to approach the broody, tall, and handsome football player in his class.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 16
Kudos: 275
Collections: #ficwip 5k, The Modern Witcher AU Collection





	Calligraphy

**Author's Note:**

> So I saw this [tweet](https://twitter.com/_kuinshi/status/1274718676550168579?s=20) from Kuinshi and it was love at first sight. I hope to do that cute, beautiful drawing some justice. 

Jaskier is in love. 

Ok so maybe calling it love is a bit of a stretch but what is an artist without some amount of exaggeration, one could ask? And since Jaskier is definitely an artist he can exaggerate how much he wants. So, he is in love.

The subject of his affection is the gruff, silent, brooding guy with white hair whose name is Geralt Rivia. Jaskier knows it because Rivia plays for the college football team, not because he has, in any capacity, made his acquaintance in the two years they've both been at Oxenfurt. It's not that Jaskier is _shy_ , that would be a laughable assumption, no, it's that the guy is more slippery than an overly lubed dildo and more closed off than a vaulted door. Therefore it's been two years and, despite having shared the dorm building the first year and still having two classes together, Jaskier still doesn't know much about the perfect specimen of a man that is Geralt. 

What he does know is: they're the same age and about the same height, probably, even if the dude is twice as wide as him. He has white hair and no one is willing to say if the carpet matches the curtains; there are bets on it. His eyes are a totally unnatural shade of gold but he doesn't come across like the kind of guy who would wear colored contacts, so Jaskier doesn't know. He's always hanging out with the other Wolves (his teammates) or with his friend Yennefer who he may or may not be sleeping with. 

Jaskier is a very enthusiastic collector of gossip and the fact that he knows so little about the man is all kinds of unfair and not just a little hot. He has met Yennefer a few times at some parties, the last time being the one when she broke up with Ystredd with a shouting match that was the talk of all college for a week after that. She seems like a bit of a bitch, but Jaskier's one too, so he doesn't mind.

Back to the matter at hand. 

Jaskier has tried to introduce himself to Geralt _at least_ four times. The best acknowledgment he has gotten had been a grunt -a very sexy, very low grunt- on the fourth try, the one time Jaskier declaimed a raunchy poem in the center of the cafeteria -on a table because he is an entertainer, thank you very much- and asked for a review to the Wolves table. It had ended with a series of snippy comebacks with another one of the players -Jaskier thinks his name is Lambert- which he is not very proud of, especially the moment when he sputtered and lost and fled the room with as much dignity as possible, which was not much at all.

It was not his finest moment. It was also six months ago. 

Aaaanyway. Jaskier is in love. 

He really needs to find a way to get his hands on that fantastic, marvelous, bouncy, round, thick ass. Not that he will not enjoy the man too, his brain, his personality, his conversation, of course, but that ass, _damn_. That ass haunts Jaskier's dreams at night and day alike, followed by big hands -gotta love a man with big hands- and the grunt. The grunt has made an impression. There’s just that tiny tiny bit of a problem that is that Jaskier has absolutely no fucking idea how to approach the dude. He feels like he’s invisible to his eyes but that’s impossible because clearly the guy _can see_ and Jaskier is not, nor ever will be, a discreet person. His favorite color is yellow, so what. They have two classes in common, they see each other at least four times a week, how hard could it be? So fucking hard, that’s how. Ok, maybe the classes are both very popular and there’s a mass of students attending them, but Jaskier can see Geralt, right? And the guy is always dressed in black, head to toe, with those fucking tight pants that… well. _That_. Jaskier is always colorful -Essi calls it rainbowy- and bright -Chiradean calls it loud- and honestly, he knows everyone on this fucking campus, so. 

It occurs to Jaskier, vaguely, that it could be possible that Geralt is avoiding him on purpose, but, in between his numerous best traits, it’s possible that Jaskier may be a bit of a pushover. A bit. He doesn’t ask for his friends' insights on that, he probably wouldn’t like them. 

The brilliant, brilliant idea comes when Jaskier is taking a calligraphy class, on a Tuesday evening. Why a calligraphy class, you ask? Why not, he answers. It goes well with his drawing class and his pottery class. He needs to be busy, ok? Also, his therapist recommends hands-on activities that require concentration and fine motors skill and he already plays seven instruments and he definitely doesn’t need to concentrate to do _that_. Calligraphy, on the other hand, is a challenge. The teacher is beautiful, too, and that doesn’t hurt at all; Jaskier is always appreciative of beautiful people. Anyway, on this Tuesday evening they are going through a new font, really curly and romantic and beautiful and, just like that, Jaskier thinks that he should write a letter. A love letter. A romantic letter. He _can do_ that. He writes songs all the time. None of them are famous _yet_ , but still. Jaskier finally has a plan and he’s glad for it. 

Two weeks later the end of term is approaching very, very fast and Jaskier has still absolutely no idea what to write in his letter. He has at least twelve rough drafts but they are terrible. Absolutely terrible. One looks like it’s been written by a twelve year old girl, another seems to come directly from the victorian age. They are fucking _awful_. Jaskier knows he could still think about it and postpone his plan to after the holidays but he’s feeling angsty and jittery and if he has to wait three more weeks he’s going to lose his fucking mind. So, the week before finals, he buys a nice, pink piece of paper and a bright blue envelope, takes a fine brush -he totally could do it with a marker, but where’s the fun in that- and writes, big, bold and flamboyant:

_Do you want to fuck?_

In for a penny, in for a pound. He adds his name and number at the end of the sheet -still written nicely but with a marker, this time-, folds the note, puts it in the envelope and, without a single second thought, lets it fall almost discreetly in front of Geralt at the lesson the morning after. It’s out of his hands, now.

\---

Geralt stares at the envelope for what feels like hours but is actually just a handful of seconds, because the professor is entering class and throwing her coat carelessly on her desk while starting right away to talk with that pompous, authoritative voice that annoys him so much. He discreetly puts the letter in his backpack but a slight look towards Yen indicates she’s seen it all. _Fuck_. 

Why, in all hell, did Pankratz just leave him an envelope? Geralt is curious, sure, but he’s also panicking a bit. 

Pankratz is fucking _loud_. Not just his voice, though that too, but his clothes, his presence itself is loud. Geralt is _not loud_. Geralt’s goal in life is to avoid noise and avoid making it too. He dresses in black, keeps to himself, can have entire conversations with a grunt and two fucks, and presses on. Despite that slight, minimal difference, Geralt has been unable to avoid noticing the dude that acts like college life is a musical and owns more bright scarfs than anyone should ever need, really. Because Pankratz, while very, very different from Geralt, is also fucking handsome with those very blue and big eyes, his large shoulder and a tight ass that _should not_ look that good in a pair of yellow overalls. It’s a crime. So maybe Geralt has had some dreams here and there, some at night and some less so, but he has managed to stay out of Pankratz’s sight, he thinks, so the envelope makes no sense. It could make sense if everyone was to receive one but, as far as he can tell, it’s just him. 

The lesson is long and fastidious and his attention is elsewhere. When it ends, Yennefer scoops him up by the elbow and drags him out of the class so fast he barely manages to take his bag. Once they’re outside she pushes him into one small hallway that seems deserted, she lets him go and extend her palm.

“What.”

She rolls her eyes. She does that a lot.

“The letter. Jaskier’s letter. Out with it.”

Ah, right, Pankratz’s name is Jaskier. No wait, wasn’t it Julian? Geralt is confused.

“I haven’t read it yet, you’re not going to read it first,” he says in a gruff voice as he retrieves the envelope from his bag. It’s a nice color, a bit darker than Jaskier’s eyes. 

“Fiiine, read it then!” Yennefer whispers angrily, folding her arms on her chest. He doesn’t understand why she’s angry, but to be honest she’s almost always angry. 

Geralt opens the card and finds inside a little note in a light pink color inside and, on it, in a nice font that looks like it’s been written by hand, there’s written “ _Do you want to fuck?_ ” and as soon as Geralt reads it he feels his face becoming crimson. Yennefer snatches the card from his hands and her hysterical laugh echoes in the hallway, making him blush harder until he snatches the card back and leaves with a scowl on his overheated face. 

“No, no, wait!”

“Fuck you, Yen.”

“Come on, let’s talk about this! God the guys are going to laugh so hard..”

He turns, rather abruptly, and points a finger at her face.

“The others will not laugh about it because they will not know about it because you’re not going to tell them, Yen,” he seethes, and she almost recoils from him. 

“Why? Are you _considering_ it?” she starts to laugh again, then catches something on his face and goes: “Oh my god, you are!” 

Geralt grits his teeth and turns to leave again, but she catches him. 

“Why? Geralt, he’s the college slut...” 

“Hm.” Geralt doesn’t like this rumor. There’s nothing wrong in having sex, for one, and it’s wildly unchecked, for two. Slut-shaming and reputations are not his favorite things. “You have the reputation of being a bitch, but here I am.”

She sputters, which was the point, but then keeps going. “He must be bored and thought you’d be a challenge and he’s going to tell everybody he fucked you...”

“Bold of you to assume he’s going to fuck me,” he grins.

“And your reputation will be ruined and for fuck’s sake, Geralt, are you even listening to me?”

“No,” and then he’s flying up the stairs to his next lesson, Yennefer’s free.

He thinks about it. He wants to say yes -well, if he’s honest, he wants to say yes to maybe more than a quick fuck and see if the air around Jaskier is as warm as it looks from afar- but Yen has a point: Geralt doesn’t know why Jaskier decided, today of all days, to ask Geralt for a round of horizontal dance. So, Geralt, who’s never affirmed to be subtle, saves Jaskier’s number in his phone and just sends:

G: Why?

J: Who’s this?

G: Geralt. Why?

J: Oooh, you found my note, I’m delighted! Why what?

G: Why do you want to fuck?

J: Are you kidding right now? Do you possess a mirror?

G: Yes.

J: Well, there you have it. So, what do you think?

Geralt frowns at his phone, unclear as to why someone like Jaskier might find someone as dull as Geralt attractive. Well, there’s no account for taste. 

\---

So, apparently, Geralt is a wordsmith… not. It doesn’t matter! The only thing that matters is the obvious success of his well-crafted plan. At least for the part where he now has Geralt’s number, which is, if he’s honest, more than what he hoped for. 

G: Is this for a bet or something?

Jaskier rolls his eyes, then lies on the bed, then sits again, then bounces his knee. He needs to do something to evacuate his overflowing energy while he tries to reassure Geralt that no, it’s not a bet, it’s the sheer appeal of his fucking ass. 

J: No, it’s for the gravitational pull of your lovely bottom

Which is the same thing, but a bit less crude? Maybe. He hopes Geralt laughs, even if he has never seen anything more than a slight pull upwards of his lips on his face. Jaskier takes his guitar, then drops it -too easy- before taking his violin. It annoys the neighbors, but he doesn’t care. When he has finished a Capriccio he takes his phone again, feeling a little more centered. 

G: lol

G: Ok, when and where?

Jaskier spends exactly three seconds thinking that this is too easy and that he’s going to be pranked by the football team, but he doesn’t care. If it happens, he’ll deal. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s humiliated by a group of bullies and it’s not going to stop him from trying. 

J: Tonight, my place?

G: can’t tonight, have practice. Tomorrow?

Jaskier has calligraphy tomorrow, but who’s he kidding. 

J: that works. I’ll text you the address... do you like pineapple on your pizza or are you normal?

G: Don’t ever associate pizza and pineapple again and we’re good.

J: Roger that! See you tomorrow!

\---

Geralt is nervous. He’s not usually nervous, and he doesn’t really care for the feeling. He’s debating whether to ring the bell of Jaskier’s place or not for about ten minutes, pacing in front of his apartment building. He’s not nervous about the sex, no, well, not really, he’s nervous about the possibility that this is a one-time thing and he doesn’t want it to be, perhaps. He doesn’t even know why, he doesn’t know the guy who’s maybe a gigantic asshole. He’s surely shameless enough to be one. It doesn’t matter, in the end. If he is a gigantic asshole Geralt will just unleash Yennefer against him, god knows she’ll be glad to have someone to ruin if needs be. He rings. A chirpy voice answers.

“Yes?”

“It’s me.”

“Who’s me?”

“Geralt. Are you waiting for a lot of people tonight? I’m not into group things,” he sneers, and Jaskier sputters something in the microphone as he opens the door. Geralt enters and hears a faint “third floor” just before the door closes. When he reaches the floor Jaskier is leaning against the doorframe, trying to look put together but unable to hide the flush on his cheeks which, Geralt notes, highlights his eyes even more, which is totally not necessary. 

“I brought beer,” he says, holding the six-pack in front of him. Jaskier takes it and retreats into the flat, letting him in. 

“Thanks, that’s really thoughtful! I ordered the pizza, no pineapple.”

“Thank god,” Geralt exhales, removing his jacket and setting it on the back of a chair. The flat is tiny and crowded. Several musical instruments lie all over the place, there are dishes in the sink and books and papers in unlikely places. Various posters from bands and events cover the walls and there’s an unbelievable amount of colorful throw pillows on the old, grey couch. It’s very, very different from his tidy, clean, minimalistic room, but Geralt finds he quite likes it. It speaks of a place well lived. 

Jaskier offers him a beer, and he takes it. Now that he’s here the nervousness comes back tenfold, because, honestly, hookups are always _weird_. Jaskier seems to be unable to stay still for more than a second, his hands fidgeting, his face making too many things at once, his eyes going from Geralt’s face to the walls to the books to the... It gives Geralt almost a sense of vertigo. 

“Nice font, by the way.”

“What?” Jaskier’s expression finally settles on something like bewilderment, but at least his eyes look straight at him instead of jumping everywhere. 

“The font you used for the letter. It was nice.”

“Oh, thank you, I’m taking this calligraphy class and I quite like it, I thought it would be a nice touch, even if the... ah... text wasn’t as elaborate as I would have liked but, honestly, the other drafts were terrible, Geralt, it was the best I could come up with and I’m very sad about that...” Jaskier rants and Geralt understands that the other man is as nervous, if not more, than him. That’s... that’s quite relaxing. He feels his shoulders unclench and smirks, watching Jaskier going on about something he’s not even listening to, focused on how his lips move, how his hands flutter, how his pants shift against his legs, how his energy seems to build around them. Geralt hums and settles his beer on the table. That’s enough talking for now, he thinks. 

\---

Jaskier is rambling, he knows he is, and he doesn’t even know about what at this moment, but the hum coming from Geralt stops him right in his tracks. Those golden eyes are watching him with... intent, and between a breath and the next Geralt is _right there_ , in his space, hands hovering around his waist and lips just a couple of inches away from his. Without thinking, Jaskier puts his hands on Geralt’s and pushes a bit, enough for those massive hands to come to rest on his waist, then pushes a bit more to settle them on his hips. There. Better. Once Geralt’s hands are where he wants them he glides his own along Geralt’s forearms and sees how his hair rises like he’s giving him goosebumps. When he raises his gaze to Geralt’s face again there’s a smirk on those perfect -no, not perfect, there’s a little scar on the upper lip and god, that little detail makes him even hotter, what the fuck- and heat in his eyes.

“Are you going to talk all night, sunshine?”

Jaskier laughs, but it’s a breathless thing.

“I can, I guess it depends on whether you can shut me hmmph”

Geralt, it appears, can and is willing to shut him up. His lips are smooth and hot and since Jaskier wants them on his own for longer he raises a hand to cradle Geralt’s head, scratching a bit at his scalp, and isn’t the sound that comes from his throat at the feeling an interesting one? It is, it sure is, and Jaskier concentrates on obtaining it again and doesn’t even notice when a hand glides down to his ass and a tongue pokes at his lips. It’s just easy to open up, and taste, tongues twirling around each other, muffled moans shared in a nonexistent distance between them. Soon there are hands under shirts, and Geralt’s skin feels good under his fingers but he wants to see more, to touch more, to taste more. He leans back and breaks the kiss, heavy lids wearily opening to take in the almost flushed face in front of him. Now it’s his time to smile slyly and, as he steps back from the embrace, he winks and takes off his shirt, turning towards the only other room of his apartment.

“Coming?”

He hears a snort of laughter behind him but doesn’t turn. As soon as he’s in his bedroom he throws the shirt on his chair -well, almost on it- and starts to unbutton his pants, and suddenly there are hands on his and a hot mass behind him, half-naked from the feeling of it.

“Tut tut, sunshine, I was looking forward to this,” a low voice says right in his ear and oh, god, that’s so hot. He leaves his pants alone to pet the arms in front of him while large but nimble fingers take care of his button and his zip, and he just steps aside when the pants pool at his ankles. His cock is already straining his boxers, which are promptly discarded too while soft lips framed with just a bit of stubble glide on his neck and shoulders. He turns, then, to face the magnificent expanse of Geralt’s chest, all muscles and a dust of hair, and he has to put his hands on all _that_ , so he does. Geralt removes his pants too and, gods above, there’s nothing underneath those, just a huge, hard, red and beautiful cock, and Jaskier, quite obviously, kneels in front of it. 

\---

Geralt feels like his breath has been punched out of his lungs when Jaskier licks his cock the first time. He doesn’t know what he was expecting from all this but having Jaskier on his knees sucking his cock with his blue, so blue eyes watching him from down there wasn’t it. And wow, the guy’s a cocksucker if there is one, the way he licks and slurps and swallows around him, trying to take him as much as he can, making himself gag a little until Geralt fists the base of his dick to prevent him from going too far. Jaskier’s hands are everywhere, his legs, his balls, his ass, his chest, but all of Geralt’s focus is on his cock and the mouth around it. He lets him do what he wants for a moment, trading his fingers through his brown hair, lifting his bangs from his forehead, pulling a little just to see what happens. When Geralt starts to feel the heat coiling at the base of his cock -too soon, too fucking soon, _what the fuck_ \- he pulls a bit more and Jaskier releases him, sitting on his heels, eyes glazed and dick hard between his legs. He looks completely fucked-up and Geralt is loving it. 

Geralt backtracks just a bit, then goes to the bed, making himself at home on it, sprawled. He sees the hungry look Jaskier is giving him, still kneeling on the floor, and bends a leg, opens the other a bit, and takes his cock in hand, a questioning expression on his face. Jaskier rises, with far more elegance than Geralt expected, and crawls on the bed, hovering over him. They’re kissing again, then, bodies pressed against each other, and Jaskier hides some serious heat under his flowery shirts and yellow overalls; there are large shoulders, and a trim waist, a nice chest, and surprisingly big thighs. Geralt touches it all, then pushes against the mattress with his foot to turn them and come out on top. He leaves Jaskier’s lips to explore his throat, nipping and kissing, and the sounds that come out from Jaskier’s mouth are so loud, and lovely, and Geralt kind of hopes he’ll have time to hear them all. The brunet is wriggling beneath him, hips thrusting to find friction against his dick, legs hugging his hips. Geralt adjusts them a bit, so their cocks can glide together and, yeah, that’s good, and even better when Jaskier pulls his hair a bit to find his mouth again. They kiss and push and pull and sweat and moan, until Geralt snakes a hand between their bellies, grasping both their cocks in a tight fist, and Jaskier bends his head backward and shouts his orgasm, tightening his pull on Geralt’s hair. Geralt can’t do anything apart from coming with him, eyes on the long, white column of his neck, his closed eyes, his parted lips, and the added lubrication that is their cum makes the aftershocks even better, shivers along his spine and heat deep in his belly. When their cocks stop pulsing out their pleasure, Geralt tries to disentangle himself from Jaskier’s legs and arms to lie on his side, but Jaskier holds on tight. 

“Uh uh, you’re staying here now.”

“We’re gross, Jaskier.”

“Maybe. I don’t care.” His face is blissful, a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips, closed eyes that Geralt leans to kiss, forgoing cleanliness for intimacy for the moment. 

“But I thought you said there was pizza,” he whispers in Jaskier’s ear and smirks feeling the full-body shudder that achieves.

“Mmm, I said that, didn’t I. Well, pizza sounds like a good idea right now, we’ll need the energy,” Jaskier replies, still smiling dreamily.

“Yeah, come on.” This time Geralt is allowed to stand and, if Jaskier joins him in the bathroom and they stay crowded in the little shower for far longer than necessary to just rinse off some cum, it’s something between them.

\---

There’s a little frame on the wall at the head of their bed, surrounded by the pictures of the wedding, the first time they had their daughter in their arms, the pictures of their vacations, and the ones of their closest friends. In the little, unassuming frame, there’s a pink note with a nice calligraphy that says: “ _Do you want to fuck?_ ” and this is the fourth bedroom wall it’s being pinned to and, hopefully, the last. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> This fic is my contribution to the ficwip 5k challenge and collection. The 5k was a challenge! This story kept going bigger and I kept cutting it reminding myself to not go off track xD
> 
> I hope you liked it! Thank you for reading it!
> 
> If you liked this story check out my other Witcher fics:
> 
> \- [A piper at the gates of dawn](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23411083/chapters/56107210); canon universe, ep 6 fix-it, rated E, <9k. Geralt finds Jaskier one year and a half after the mountain.  
> \- the [Muse 'verse](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1752481): Modern setting, from hook-up to lovers, rated E, Geralt wears kilts, angst with a happy ending. <20k  
> \- [In the kitchen of a keep in the mountains](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25910944/chapters/62970847): canon universe, found family, food as a love language, internal monologues, character study, rated T, 12k  
> \- [ There was only one bed and it was uncomfortable](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26283094): 5+1 Crack, rated E, 4k  
> \- [Wish you were here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26579083); canon universe, porn without plot, rated E, 5k. Geralt walks in on Jaskier.. again.  
> \- [Of food, friendship and apologies](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27954674); canon universe, ep 6 fix-it, rated G, 2k, not or pre slash. Food is a love language.  
> \- [As we lie here in our bed](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28527864): canon universe, porn without plot, somnophilia prompt for the Sugar and Spice Witcher Bingo, rated E, 1k  
> \- [Black in front of my eyes, bark against my back](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28616832): canon universe, porn without plot, outdoor, clothed sex, rated E, <1k  
> \- [Things that bump in the night](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28617060): pre canon universe, porn without plot, Eskel/Geralt, Kaer Morhen, rated E, <1k  
> \- [I quite like seeing you all tied up](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28617300): canon universe, porn without plot, Geraskier, soft bondage, rated E, <1k  
>   
> And you can come yell at me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/ArtanisNaanie) too!


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